The swap
by merlinfan93
Summary: Merlin is tired of working for Arthur, so uses a spell to switch places with him and become the prince. Please comment and review.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at a fanfic so please comment! Any constructive criticism is welcome!**

'...and _then_ you can muck out the horses and tidy my room. Oh, and fetch me some more breakfast; I can't eat _that_.'

Merlin was just daydreaming about putting Arthur in the stocks and making everyone throw rotten vegetables at him, when he realised that the prince was reciting a list of chores that he had prepared. Merlin looked at the parchment in horror. It was trailing on the floor, and Arthur was wearing that self-satisfied smirk that told him he would be working into the night again.

'Well, go on then, I don't have all day,' drawled Arthur, sitting back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. 'Get on with it.'

Merlin gave him the dirtiest look he could muster, and stumbled out of the room carrying the list and a pile of armour. He felt abused; he must have saved Arthur's life dozens of times, but he still treated him like he only existed to do his bidding. Arthur got all the women, all the praise and did no work at all (unless you counted showing off his fighting skills by killing every beast in sight). Merlin sighed, and made his way back to his room to dump all the armour on the table.

'What are you doing, Merlin?'

He spun around, only to come face to face with an irritable Gaius.

'You just dumped all that on an important experiment I had been doing for the King. Now I'll have to start it all over again, and you can help me, seeing as you ruined it all in the first place.'

Merlin looked at the table, and saw that a beaker was tipped to its' side, and a purplish liquid was flooding the table.

'I'm sure I can use magic to fix that,' he soothed, but as soon as he said this Gaius turned a deep plum to rival his experiment. Merlin held his hands up in surrender, but it was too late.

'Haven't I taught you ANYTHING? Magic could get you KILLED yet you insist on using it for things that can be done by hand!'

Merlin thought it best to do as Gaius said without complaint when he was in this mood, so grabbed a cloth and set about clearing up the mess. While he worked on trying to follow all of Gaius' instructions without making any mistakes, he was dreading seeing Arthur and having to admit he hadn't done any of the chores that he had been set. The sun was setting when Gaius finally let Merlin go, and he rushed to Arthur's chambers immediately, hoping Arthur would be hunting...but no. He was sitting in almost exactly the same pose Merlin had left him in, looking impatient.

'Where _have_ you been? I told you to be done with all the work _before_ sunset, and I've heard that you haven't even mucked out the stables. That was first on the list. If it isn't finished by tomorrow you'll be in the stocks for a month.'

Arthur looked satisfied by the horrified expression on Merlin's face, and started scratching absently at the stone wall with a quill. Merlin scrubbed the floor, tidied the room and made the bed. After a while his arms started aching, and when he looked out of the window the sun had set. He looked over at Arthur. His head was lolling towards the table, and his mouth was slightly open. Every so often, a faint snore would puncture the silence. This is how he liked Arthur best; asleep and unable to taunt Merlin or give him more work. He could feel his eyes drooping, and mentally shook himself. It would be worse tomorrow if he hadn't got everything done. Merlin walked unsteadily back to Gaius' chambers, and found Gaius slumped against the table with his face pressed into a book. Merlin took a while dragging him towards his bed, then realised he wouldn't be able to lift him onto it. With a faint smile at the thought of what Gaius would say if he woke, Merlin muttered a spell and the physician glided effortlessly onto his blanket.

He lost track of the time as he polished Arthur's armour, while he magically mended his chainmail. His arms were so tired that they had gone numb, which he was grateful for. He knew he would be in pain if he could feel his body right now. With a sigh, he made his way down to the stables. He had left this task until last because he had been hoping it would somehow go away. He couldn't even use magic; the guards were watching him suspiciously, wondering why he was out this late. The horses glowered at him as he came in (could horses even glower? Wow, he must be sleepy), angry at him for disturbing their rest. As he was lifting his first pile of horse dung, he accidentally collapsed into the horse in front of him. It neighed loudly and reared onto its' hind legs, and Merlin felt a sharp blow on his chest. The force of it knocked him to the ground, and he stayed there, feeling too fragile to get up, and feeling himself sinking into an unavoidable sleep.

At first Merlin thought it was the pain that had woken him. Every part of him was throbbing, and his chest felt especially sore, but then he became aware of someone shouting. He opened his eyes, but immediately wished he hadn't. Arthur's face was looming threateningly above him, and Merlin didn't think he'd ever seen anything so terrifying. His nostrils were dilated, his eyes were wide and his face was as red as Gwen's dress. Whenever he spoke, big gobs of spit would land on Merlin's face, so he thought it best to move out of the way. He sat up groggily, wincing.

'At _last_, you're awake. You didn't even finish your work last night. You know what that means don't you?'

Merlin tried to make sense of Arthur's words through the fog in his brain, and then groaned as they finally started to mean something. Arthur didn't seem perturbed by the fact that he hadn't done all the work. Merlin was sure he just enjoyed seeing him suffer.

By the time the village had exhausted their supply of rotten vegetables, it was midday. The sun was shining brightly; mocking him as he made his way back to Gaius' chambers. Gaius looked terrible; his eyes were bloodshot and he was slumped low in his chair, but when Merlin came in he sat up with a look of concern in his eyes.

'You look terrible,' he said, by way of greeting.

'You, too,' yawned Merlin, sprawling into the nearest chair he could find. He could hear Arthur from outside the window. It sounded as if he had just realised that Merlin could have injured his horse by falling into it with a spade full of horse dung. Phrases like _most useless manservant_ and _can't even lift a spade without injuring_ _someone_ kept drifting through the window. Merlin sighed.

'I'd better go down and see what all the fuss is about,' he muttered resignedly, already heaving himself out of his chair. He allowed himself to fantasize for a moment; he imagined he was strong and muscular and Arthur was the lanky one, and he could order Arthur to do all the work. With a smile on his face as an aftermath of this uplifting thought, Merlin made his way down to the stables. The smile soon disappeared.

'You _injured_ my horse. If you haven't finished all the work by the afternoon, I'll tell my father.' Arthur pointed to a shallow scratch on the horses' leg. _That horse injured me far more than I injured it_, thought Merlin, but he wasn't stupid enough to voice this. Arthur pointed to _another_ list, which was as long as the first one, and left the stables. Gwen was standing outside the stables with a disapproving expression on her face, but this was directed at-'

'Arthur? What do you think you're doing?'

Gwen was the only person who could speak to Arthur like that and get away with it. It was common knowledge (among the servants) that Arthur liked her, but it was also common knowledge that Gwen found Arthur arrogant and insensitive. Merlin couldn't blame her.

'I'm giving my servant work to do. Isn't that what servants are for?'

'Yes, but you're meant to give him an amount that's actually possible to do. Not a long list of useless chores.' Arthur puffed his chest out indignantly.

'They are _not_ useless. Is it too much to ask that I have my room tidy, and my clothes clean, and my armour polished, and my stables mucked out, and my-'

'Yes it is too much if you ask one servant to do all that in one day. _Morgana_ would never ask me to do all that. _Morgana_ would-'

'Yes, we've heard quite enough about your precious Morgana,' muttered Arthur tetchily. Gwen blushed angrily and glared at Arthur. Merlin forced himself to keep working and ignore the argument, but his curiosity wouldn't let him block it out.

'How would you feel if _you_ were a servant and someone asked _you_ to do all that work?'

'Well, luckily I'm Crowned Prince and not a servant, and I never will be.' Gwen wrinkled her nose disgustedly, as if Arthur was a particularly smelly pile of horse dung, and walked away. Merlin couldn't suppress a groan. If anyone could make Arthur a good prince, she could, but so far she was failing miserably. Merlin could hear Arthur's footsteps getting further and further away as he ran after Gwen, calling 'Gwene_vere_!'

Thankfully, Merlin had managed to finish all the work by the afternoon and wasn't taken to Uther, but he couldn't feel his legs as he stumbled into Gaius' chambers. Gaius greeted him with a worried frown, and a plate of food. He still looked run-down, and they both sank into chairs, felling hard done by. Merlin didn't realise how hungry he was until he started eating the (disgusting) vegetable stew that Gaius had prepared; it was the first time he'd actually enjoyed it. Thanks to Arthur, he'd hardly eaten in the past few days. He thought back over his fantasy life, where Arthur was the servant and he was the prince, and suddenly had a brainwave.

'We can't carry on like this, Gaius. If I have to muck out Arthur's stables one more time, I'm running away.'

'Merlin, we've discussed this before-'

'But I've had an idea!' In spite of himself, Gaius looked interested. It was a mark of how terrible the last few days had been that he wasn't bellowing at him about magic being dangerous (as it was obvious what Merlin meant).

'I'll enchant the King to make him think I'm his son, and Arthur's my manservant!' Gaius looked aghast. He opened his mouth and blinked a few times, before croaking 'What?'

'Don't worry. I'll help you with your work, because I won't have anything to do! All Arthur does all day is sit around, ordering me about. I'm sure I can manage that!' Merlin couldn't suppress a smile at the thought of Arthur's horrified face as Merlin handed him a list of chores. He started leafing through his magic book, so caught up in his dream that he didn't realise Gaius was still gaping at him as if he was mad.

'You want to use magic on the King!'

'He won't remember,' said Merlin, impatient for Gaius to be as excited as him. 'Here! I've found it! I'll just wait until nightfall, so he'll be asleep.'

'Merlin, Listen! We haven't thought this out at all. We need to plan-'

'I can't stand another day like this, and this plan's our only way out.' Merlin marched out of the room, unable to wait any longer. It was time he turned his dreams into reality.

Merlin finally found Uther at nightfall. He had fallen asleep on his thrown, and the dim candlelight illuminated the deep creases on his forehead, but for once, he wasn't frowning. Asleep, he looked peaceful and serene; untroubled by disobedient servants or his need to uphold the laws of Camelot. Merlin felt almost guilty to disturb his rest, but nevertheless raised his hand to perform magic. As he muttered the spell he had learnt, Uther's eyes snapped open with a dazed, slightly hypnotised look. Merlin watched him nervously, but as soon as he had started to panic, they rolled back into his head and Uther slumped back into his throne. He breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to resist the urge to skip out of the council chambers. He still hadn't finished.

Arthur was also sleeping, but as soon as Merlin had muttered another incantation, he dreamily rose out of bed. Merlin directed him towards Gaius' chambers, not bothering to move any obstacles that might make him stub his royal toes. He then changed the sheets on Arthur's bed (he wouldn't be able to sleep with the smell of Arthur's sweat polluting the air) and sank into the soft layers of the royal mattress. He was asleep within seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to mydoctortennant, TheAngelGirl1992, s11235 and ruby890 for reviewing! Your reviews helped write this chapter so I hope you like it **

Arthur sat up groggily, wondering why his bed was so hard and his room was so small and shabbily furnished. It was really only suitable accommodation for a servant, but certainly not for_ him_. He then realised why the room seemed strangely familiar.

'Merlin?'

Nobody answered him, but he heard soft snoring drifting through the door. He marched towards it, and flung the door open so forcefully that he caused it to ricochet off the frame, and almost slam shut again. A muffled 'oh?' issued from the room, and he opened the door more carefully, to find Gaius looking irritably at him.

'You don't have to break the door down to wake me up. You can just shake me.' Arthur opened his mouth, closed it again and blinked a few times.

'What am I doing here? Where's Merlin? He really is the most useless manservant I have ever come across.' It was Gaius' turn to blink at Arthur.

'What are you talking about? Did you have another one of those dreams where Prince Merlin's your servant? You really need to start living in reality.' By this time Arthur's eyes were almost popping out of his head, and he spluttered a few times and swayed on the spot, reeling.

By the time Gaius had managed to convince Arthur that he was Merlin's manservant, the sun had risen. Gaius looked alarmed when he glanced out of the window.

'Quick, you don't want to keep the Prince waiting!' Arthur still looked shell-shocked as he stumbled out of the room, and Gaius had to hide a secret smile.

Merlin was just beginning to realise how unrealistic his plan was as he was rummaging in Arthur's wardrobe. He had spent a while trying to find Arthur's smallest tunic and tightest jacket, and even then they were about five times too big for him. He sighed as he looked down at himself. His legs looked even more spindly in Arthur's baggy trousers, and even though the sleeves on the tunic came above his wrists, it still looked shapeless. Merlin looked around for help, not really expecting to find anything, but spotted a long cloak on the back of a chair. Trying it on, he smiled in relief. This would hide the fact that nothing actually fit him until he could persuade Gwen to create a new wardrobe. He knew that Arthur usually had breakfast with his father on the last day of the week, so made his way down to the throne room, feeling apprehensive. What if the enchantment hadn't worked? What if Uther considered Merlin impersonating his son as an unforgivable act of treachery? What if he ordered him to be burnt on the stake, or worse, hanged? By the time Merlin was outside the throne room, he was trying to control the trembling that had built up inside him; a suppressed mixture of nerves and anticipation. He stood outside the doors for a few moments, and then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before venturing into the room. The King was sitting at the head of a long table, and looked up as Merlin came in.

'Where have you been? It's nearly mid-day, and you're breakfast is going cold.' Merlin's brain could only register the fact that Uther hadn't called in his guards to arrest him, and he sank down into the comfy chair gratefully. The King was looking at him questioningly, and Merlin realised that he was still waiting for an answer.

'It's my servant; he forgot to tidy my room, so I tripped over my boots…and banged my head, and I've only just regained consciousness.' Merlin ducked his head, so the King wouldn't see the blush that was spreading rapidly across his face. He couldn't possibly swallow that story; Merlin was a terrible liar, but when he finally dared to glance upwards, the King was nodding his head.

'That servant of yours, he gets more inept every day. I wouldn't put it past him.' Merlin ducked his head again, so the King wouldn't see him silently laughing, then Gwen brought in a plate full of meat and vegetables. Merlin could not stop a wicked smile spreading across his face at the thought of what Arthur would be having for breakfast. She winked at him as she set the plate in front of him; Merlin whispered a 'thanks' and gave her a small smile, but he was sure she had seen it. As soon as the King was settled with a third helping of breakfast, Merlin started eating with unwonted enthusiasm. The King looked up from his plate and raised his eyebrows.

'Remember, Merlin, we are royalty; we don't eat like servants.'

'Yes…father,' he replied, the word feeling strange and unfamiliar in his mouth. The King didn't seem surprised; apparently, he wasn't too close to his son. Merlin took care to eat carefully after that; to savour every mouthful so he wouldn't anger Uther.

'Sendred is paying us a visit tonight. There has been rivalry between our kingdoms for many years now, so I trust you can make a good impression.' Merlin blanched, and immediately lost his appetite. He wasn't expecting a test this early on. He'd hardly had a chance to get used to being a Prince, and now he was being thrown in at the deep end. He was sure that Sendred would see right through his pathetic disguise. Even the enchanted Uther could see something was amiss. He was looking at Merlin strangely.

'Are you alright? You've gone very pale.' Merlin was surprised at such an uncharacteristic show of concern.

'I'm fine, just a bit nervous about meeting Sendred.' Uther smiled warmly at him, and Merlin was taken aback. How strong _was_ his enchantment?

'Don't worry about it. You'll most likely have to sit through a couple of speeches, and if you do have to speak you can just give your opinion. Nobody can hold you responsible for that.' Uther looked out of the window, and then added: 'You had better be going; your manservant will be waiting.' Merlin got up and left, trying not to walk too fast, or look too suspicious. He couldn't understand why Uther was being so affectionate, but then realised that Arthur was probably not the best son to have conversations about feelings with. He would never admit he was scared or upset, but Merlin had opened up (though unintentionally) to Uther, and had admitted he was nervous. Although Uther was first and foremost a king, he was also a father, and wanted a good relationship with his son. Merlin felt stunned at this breakthrough, and felt a new burst of confidence. Maybe this plan wouldn't be so difficult after all.

Arthur had just managed to get his head around the fact that he was not a prince any more, when Merlin walked through the door. He had a long list in his hand, and was reciting tasks for Arthur to carry out:

'…and then you can tidy my room and polish my armour-'

Arthur couldn't suppress a snigger at the thought of skinny little Merlin collapsing under the weight of all that armour he was pointing at. He was _far_ better at fighting; he doubted Merlin would be able to move with just the chainmail.

'Is something funny?' Merlin was raising an eyebrow quizzically at him.

'No, _sire_,' replied Arthur, barely keeping a straight face.

'Okay, then you can make my bed and muck out the stables.' Arthur's smirk disappeared. It had just occurred to him that, no matter how ridiculous Merlin looked in armour, he would still have to do all the work. Merlin was in charge. This thought left him with a sour taste in his mouth as he walked out of the room. He couldn't be a servant, partly due to the fact that he had no recollection of ever _being_ a servant, but he would have to bide his time until he thought of a proper plan. In the meantime, he would watch Merlin making a fool out of himself at fighting practice; that would cheer him up.

An hour later, Arthur was heartily regretting his decision to be rude to both Merlin and Gaius. He had refused to work at first, but Gaius was adamant that he would get no lunch until he had done some chores. Arthur was starting to wonder if he would ever fully regain the use of his limbs; he was built for fighting, not this endless and monotonous scrubbing. He had kept up a steady string of complaints since he had started working, but Gaius had gone out to deliver supplies and it was no fun complaining to yourself. He decided that he had well merited a break, and then remembered that Merlin would be at fighting practise, and grinned evilly to himself. Now he would get his vengeance.

As Arthur grew closer to the field, he was surprised to not hear the clangs and clashes of swords, and the occasional swearing when a knight (or Merlin) got injured for being too careless (or useless). Instead, he heard quiet conversation, and the occasional bout of laughter. Arthur walked more quickly; curious to find out what was happening. As he peered around a nearby tree to see the occupants of the training ground, he was greeted with an unpleasant scene, and gritted his teeth, grinding them together loudly. The field's occupants were lying on the dewy grass, their swords abandoned carelessly beside them. What was more irritating, however, was the fact that they all seemed to be having the best time of their lives. Sir William was chortling at Sir Pellinore's joke, and Merlin's face was lit up like a flambeau as he chatted animatedly to Sir Leon. With a start, Arthur realised that he had never seen Merlin smile; when Arthur was around, Merlin's eyes were dull and tired, and the set of his mouth was tense and angry. He could not imagine a greater contrast with this mental image and the relaxed, laughing man he saw before him, and felt an unfamiliar force twist his gut. With a shock, he realised it was guilt, but then he heard what Merlin was saying and the unwelcome sensation soon disappeared.

'He was snoring like a pig, and dribbling all over his pillow-'

Merlin had to stop for a moment to stop the violent giggles shaking his frame. His typically pallid face was a shiny red, and tears of mirth were dribbling down his chin.

'-and then- and _then_ I had to put a cloth round his mouth to stop him waking up the whole castle-'

Merlin doubled up as a new thought occurred to him. Arthur had never realised how girly his laugh was.

'-or leaving a trail of dribble all over the floor-'

Now Leon had joined in the infantile giggling. By this point, Arthur was literally shaking with anger. His left eye was twitching, and his hands were clenched with the tendons standing out; he imagined his fingers around Merlin's neck to relieve him of some of his ire. They were obviously talking about him, but Merlin's stories were absurd. Arthur knew that he would look the same in his sleep as at any other time: devilishly handsome and noble, and he did _not_ snore or dribble! Despite his self-restraint, he could not stop a low growl from escaping his throat; Merlin's head twisted round sharply to seek out the source of the disturbance.

'Don't worry; it's only my manservant,' he explained. The knights laughed, and Merlin smiled, savouring the feel of the word 'manservant' on his tongue. Arthur scowled at the small gathering; how dare the knights not be loyal to _him_, the true prince! He had half a mind to fight Merlin. His honour had been seriously tainted, but he had no chance while the knights sided with his servant. He would have to bide his time, and wait until he was alone. As he passed Merlin, he whispered a quiet warning so only he could hear:

'I'll get you back for this.' It was only six words, but these six words were sufficient in draining all the blood out of Merlin's face. When Arthur had got out of the immediate vicinity, he looked back. All the knights were still guffawing heartily, but Merlin was standing a little apart from the rest. The man's face was ashen, and his eyes darted around like a hunted animal's. Despite all the merriment surrounding him, Merlin looked terribly lost, small and alone.

Merlin made his way back to his new chambers, feeling his heart do a somersault every time a servant appeared around a corner. By the time he had made it into the room, he was shaking with a mixture of dread and relief; he had half believed that Arthur would be waiting in an otherwise deserted corridor demanding a fight to the death. After a while, he heard a knock on the door and squeaked in terror.

'Merlin?' He sighed in relief as he recognised the voice. 'It's Gwen. Are you alright?'

'I'm fine, thanks.' Merlin's fear had been replaced with embarrassment. He couldn't believe he'd _squeaked_ with Gwen within hearing distance, and groaned before inviting her in.

'I've just come to see if you need any help...um...you know...getting ready.' Gwen blushed slightly and looked at the floor.

'I mean...do Arthur's clothes fit and everything?' she clarified, obviously knowing the answer before he opened his mouth.

'Well...I was actually going to ask you about that, Gwen.' Merlin admitted, feeling slightly self-conscious. 'Do you think you could alter them slightly, please?' Gwen smiled reassuringly.

'Of course I can, Merlin. I mean, not everyone can be as strong and muscular as Arthur.' Gwen looked aghast as she suddenly realised what she had said. 'I mean...not that you're not strong...um...I'm sure you are-' Merlin interrupted her uncomfortable stumbling with an understanding smile.

'It's alright Gwen.' She beamed gratefully at him. Merlin had never realised just how pretty Gwen was; not striking like Morgana, but sweet and attractive.

They chatted comfortably while she adjusted Arthur's clothes, that first moment of awkwardness gone. After she had done, Merlin thanked her for the help, and peeked nervously into the mirror. He was pleasantly surprised by his new outfit; it looked smart, and made him feel more confident about the number of people he would now have to deceive. He could only hope that Sendred hadn't met Arthur before.

**Please review –your comments make me write faster!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is a bit shorter than the others. I'm not sure if you will like it-there is lots of angst and it was a bit rushed. Please review, even if you just want to complain about how disappointed you are!**

Now, despite what certain servants may believe, Arthur was not stupid; he had realised that servants don't just transform into their masters overnight for no reason. His first thought on the matter had been sorcery, but what reasons would a sorcerer have for turning him into a servant? The whole ordeal didn't make any sense until he considered Merlin. Lately, the boy had been looking depressed and overworked, and took longer finishing his tasks than usual. He had not seemed surprised to wake up as prince, and had gone to breakfast with Uther as if he had done so all his life; the enchantment had obviously been planned. As far as Arthur was concerned, this trail of thoughts had an obvious conclusion. Merlin had used magic to make everyone perceive him as the true prince. His father would be furious.

Meanwhile, Merlin was making his way to the throne room, escorted by two of the royal guards. They walked beside him, impassive and expressionless as always; Merlin wondered if they ever spoke. He could feel the dread inside him mounting with every step he took. What if they had met Arthur before? What if he couldn't answer any of their questions? Thousands of 'what ifs' raced around his head in answerless circles.

They had reached the massive oak doors, which rose, grand and imposing, above the young warlock's head. Merlin gulped, and the doors creaked open. The council chambers spread out before him, and a group of men looked up at his entrance. Merlin was sure that they would be able to hear his heart thudding wildly against his chest, and wished they would stop staring; he felt small and vulnerable under their unwavering gazes.

'Come over here, son,' Uther called, his voice booming unnaturally in the cavernous room. Merlin approached the table, and sat in the empty chair beside the king. He was introduced to the other men, and nodded to them each in turn. They were still looking at him curiously, and Merlin could not help the blush that spread across his pale cheeks, which thankfully caused them to look away.

After a while, Merlin started to relax. Sendred had asked him of his opinion on a couple of matters, and the young man's responses seemed to please him. After he had answered the third question diplomatically, Sendred had looked at him with respect, impressed.

'Your boy has a wise head on his shoulders,' the king of Mercia told Uther, making Merlin flush. 'I am sure he will make a fine king someday.' At this statement, Uther looked at Merlin, a sort of fierce pride burning in his eyes; the warlock fought to keep a straight face, struck by the irony of the situation. At the end of the visit, both kings signed the treaty and shook hands, relief showing on both their faces; there would be no war.

Merlin was feeling satisfied with how the meeting had gone right until he had stepped outside the throne room, and saw Arthur waiting for him. There was no mistaking that smug expression; he had a plan.

'You used magic, didn't you.' It wasn't a question. 'If the king finds out, he'll be furious,' Arthur continued gleefully, causing the colour to fade from Merlin's cheeks. Arthur watched the warlock, fascinated, as his complexion turned a sickly grey colour. The boy's reaction confirmed his theory.

'Please…' whispered Merlin desperately. 'Please don't tell Uther he'll kill me I'll do anything' blabbered the sorcerer urgently.

'_Anything_, you say,' mused Arthur. He paused for effect, the boy holding on to his every word. Frightened blue eyes waited; Arthur's next words could save or condemn him.

'I'll think about the offer,' Arthur continued calmly. 'You'll know if it has been refused.' With that he walked off, feeling smug, and leaving Merlin looking so pale and small he seemed almost transparent. Come to think of it, he would have been better off if he was. His fate was in the hands of a man whose' two favourite things happened to be seeing his manservant suffer, and killing innocent animals.

Arthur could almost feel the burden of Merlin's life resting on his shoulders, but he could also feel the sense of being invincible and powerful that came with being so completely in control. Although he did experience some shame when he thought of the torment the warlock must be going through, it was balanced with his desire for revenge. Nobody could make him into a peasant and expect no retaliation. However, he couldn't stop certain memories from coming to mind.

Arthur had almost forgotten the wide, goofy grin that Merlin used to greet him with before promptly tripping over and landing, bewildered, at the prince's feet. He had almost forgotten the lively banter that used to accompany his manservant's visits to clean his room. He tried to remember when Merlin had stopped being the Merlin he knew, and had become the reserved, quiet character that he saw nowadays. At first Arthur had been concerned, then angry, but after a while he had forgotten that there had ever been another Merlin; A Merlin that had been his friend. When had it all started? How did they end up like this? He tried to recall the day before everything had changed…

_Merlin came into the room quietly, not meeting him in the eye when Arthur looked up. The Prince was stretching his legs for the first time in days, his arm in a sling; he had been attacked by the Questing Beast about a week ago and had narrowly escaped death. Apparently, his manservant had had better things to do than to tend to his master all day, as Arthur hadn't seen him in weeks. _

_The prince acknowledged Merlin, and then his servant asked him how he was. They exchanged a few more words, but Merlin seemed to be building himself up to say something. The prince felt strangely uncomfortable; he ate a grape and walked around the room to try and alleviate the rising tension. Merlin had his back to Arthur, and seemed hesitant in turning round. When he was finally facing forward, he seemed to have to make a conscious effort to look at Arthur. His servant's ashen skin had contrasted with the dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked even slighter than usual, but Arthur could see determination and resolve in the set of his jaw._

'_I need to talk to you,' he said finally, looking his master in the eyes._

'_You still haven't got it yet; I decide when we need to talk,' Arthur had answered, rolling his eyes. Merlin had no concept of his rank compared to Arthur, but truthfully, the prince enjoyed his inappropriate retorts. He was a welcome change from the usual mindless zombies. _

'_Not today.' Arthur had started up at his manservant in surprise. His voice had been low, serious, demanding attention._

_The prince had tried to maintain his rank: 'I sometimes wonder if you know who I am.'_

'_Oh, I know who you are,' Merlin had replied, walking towards Arthur._

'_Good.'_

'_You're a prat,' Merlin had smiled cheekily._

Merlin had then proceeded to articulate what he now realised was a goodbye. After Merlin had returned from wherever he had gone, he had been different. There was no answering back, no banter and no fun. All the times Arthur had wished he had a 'proper servant' had backfired on him. At first, he had tried to comfort Merlin, but to no avail; it was as if their friendship had never existed. It was only a few months before it didn't.

Merlin had been the only _real_ friend Arthur had; the only person who didn't want to gain anything but companionship from his closeness to the prince. Arthur had become lonely and bitter when his servant had withdrawn into himself, shutting himself away from everyone. The prince had just wanted his friend back, but now realised that punishing him and giving him more chores in the hope that he would become the old rebellious Merlin would not solve anything. Arthur now realised why his servant could not confide in him. Whatever happened whilst he was away probably involved magic, which was punishable by death. Even so, the prince wished that Merlin had had enough faith to confide in him.

Whilst Arthur was busy reminiscing, a shout jerked him rudely out of his train of thought.

'ARTHUR!' The prince flinched, and looked around, trying to discover the source of the disturbance. He thought he recognised the tone…but surely…no, it _couldn't_ be…_Gwen_?

Surely enough, the young maid was just behind him. The usually mild-mannered maidservant was irate. Her fists were clenched so tightly that the tendons stood out; her usually warm brown eyes were flashing; and her cheeks were flushed a bright pink. Arthur only just had time to register how beautiful she looked before a fist slammed, hard, into his jaw. The prince froze in shock; nobody hit the _crowned prince_.

'How _dare_ you,' Gwen thundered, making Arthur wish he was still slaving away at his chores. 'You are a cruel, selfish man, Arthur Pendragon. Merlin thinks he is going to _die_! Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you have any idea how many times he's _saved your life_, and this is how you repay him! I wish he'd left you to rot.'

Gwen's last sentence was injected with so much venom that Arthur could almost feel it spreading through his veins, poisoning his heart. Through the pain, he felt confusion. When had Merlin saved _him_? He couldn't even save himself from falling over!

'Wait, Gwenevere. What _are_ you talking about? Anyway, I think I am being pretty lenient, considering the fact that he used _magic_ to enchant my father. The same magic that is forbidden in Camelot-'

'-The same magic that he used to save your life! Merlin sacrificed so much to keep you living.' Gwen paused for a moment, scrutinising Arthur carefully as if she was trying to find something. 'I don't even know why.'

These last words were said quietly, but hit Arthur harder than the punch in the face. Gwen couldn't think of a reason why anybody would want to save him, and to be honest, neither could he.

Merlin stared at his bedpost unseeingly, a myriad of memories and emotions spinning around dizzily in his head. He saw Will's chest being pierced with an arrow; his mother lying on her deathbed; Gaius slumped on the grass, pale and lifeless, behind Nimueh; his mother dead, her eyes blank and unseeing, her bloodless lips slightly open in a silent ongoing cry of pain.

Merlin felt bile rise in his throat and retched over and over again, tears cascading silently down his pale, drawn face. He had done this. How many others would have to die for him to fulfil his destiny?

A new image rose, unbidden, in his mind: a thin pallid boy tied to a stake, sagging against the ropes that bound him. He was surrounded by flames that lashed at his aching body. As the fire rose higher, the boy choked violently, suffocated by the black fog. He screamed piercingly; his body was arched in agony, straining against the ropes.

Merlin was sick again and again until his throat was burning. At last, exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

**Please don't hate me for being so evil to Merlin! This is not exactly like the series-Hunith is dead because Merlin was too late to save her. This means that she is dead because Merlin was trying to save Arthur, so Merlin doesn't feel as comfortable around the prince. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry this took **_**ages**_**. I've been on holiday and worrying about my AS exam results-but I got them today so at last I can stop wondering. **

Merlin didn't venture outside the prince's chambers the next day. Or the day after that. Uther pounded unrelentingly on the door, and barked orders to 'do your duty as the future ruler of Camelot.' Gaius pleaded desperately, his frown lines deepening with every passing minute. By the end of the second day, they looked as if they had been carved into his face with a knife. By the third day Gaius was starting to get frantic. He ordered guards to break down the solid oak door, but they failed; it was a mark of the severity of the situation that Uther didn't even protest. Arthur avoided the room as much as possible and mostly stayed in Gaius' chambers. Only a slight tightening around his eyes gave away his inner turmoil.

He had no doubt that Merlin's shunning of society was his fault. He could hear Gwen's accusations clearly in his mind; they echoed over and over again, bouncing off the walls of his brain, until he was mad from guilt. What could he do? He knew it was his responsibility to fix this problem he had caused, but how? Was it even possible? He promptly cleared that thought from his mind. It _had_ to be.

On the fourth day, Arthur helped Gaius with his rounds, wanting to feel useful, while his head spun with crazy ideas and plans. The least outrageous scheme the prince could think of was to climb up the ivy leading to Merlin's chambers, and drag the warlock out of the door in his sleep. The most bizarre involved bringing back an army of wraiths, and telling them the door was their mortal enemy. Arthur was completely absorbed, when a familiar voice jolted him out of his musing.

'Arthur, I need to talk to you.' The voice was a mixture of fury and desperation, and Arthur's stomach clenched uncomfortably. The prince spun around to face the maidservant with his arms folded defiantly, but he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

'I'm trying to think of something okay I know it's my fault but I'm trying to solve that now and I feel guilty enough without you lecturing me and-'

Gwen's expression cut him off; her eyebrows were in danger of disappearing off her face all together.

'What?'

'Stop blabbering and come with me,' Gwen said, her brown eyes softening and her pink lips curving up. Arthur's heart thudded at the sight of the first smile she had aimed at him, and he followed Gwen's bouncing curls down corridors and up stairs, while she explained her simple plan.

'You just need to talk to him. Tell him he's in no danger, and that you're sorry for being harsh when you now realise that it just made matters worse. Promise that you'll give him less work when he swaps you both back.'

'I wonder why I didn't think of this,' Arthur wondered aloud. 'It's simple, but brilliant.' Gwen's grin grew smug.

'You're obviously all brawn and no brains,' she giggled, while Arthur pouted. His expression only increased the volume of Gwen's sniggers. 'God,' she choked out between giggling fits. 'You look like a toddler.'

The sight of the oak door in front of them had the effect of a bucket of cold water in a blissful sleep. The seriousness of the situation dawned on both of them, making their grins evaporate into the musty air. Arthur looked nervously at Gwen, and walked towards the door, pausing to knock tentatively.

'Merlin? It's Arthur.' He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. 'Look, I'm not going to punish you for magic. I should actually be thanking you for saving me with it.'

Arthur waited to see if Merlin would let him in, but he could hear no movement. 'I, um…I'm sorry for making you work so hard. I was angry at you for ignoring me. I realise I should have just given you time… I'll give you less work when we've swapped back.'

As Arthur was talking, he heard a bolt scrape against the wood. He exchanged a relieved look with Gwen, before twisting the door handle hesitantly, not sure of what to expect. As he ventured inside the room, followed by the maidservant, what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. Gwen peered over Arthur's shoulder cautiously, and her brown eyes turned liquid with compassion.

'Oh, _Merlin_,' she cried, rushing towards the trembling figure. He was clinging to the wardrobe door as if to let go would be to tumble into oblivion. Arthur, suddenly rushing to his senses, hurried after Gwen.

'What _have_ you done to yourself, Merlin?' he muttered quietly. His manservant, already slight, now looked so insubstantial Arthur was frightened to touch him in case he shattered. The shadows under his eyes looked like bruises, and his ashen complexion was covered with a sheen of sweat. It was obvious that he hadn't eaten for four days, but this was not the warlock's only ailment.

Some people say that all illnesses start in the mind. This is obviously complete nonsense. Do they really believe that people lay vomiting in bed by_ choice_ while their friends are out attending banquets or having snowball fights? Of course not! People have adopted this point of view because they like to blame others for the suffering in the world-namely the people who suffer.

However, it is true that some illnesses are born in people's consciousness. Somehow, the poison infecting the brain can spread throughout the body, and have the same effect as an illness caused by a failure of the immune system. The only difference is the patient's state of mind. Despondent patients welcome death; they say: _here I am, rescue me from this torture_, and death kindly complies. The other patients have hope, and believe their agony is worth the recovery that will follow. The real discrepancy is that pessimistic patients are already dead in their minds; they are just waiting for their heart to follow.

It was clear which kind of patient Merlin had been. His eyes looked lifeless, but a tiny spark of _something_ had infused his clear blue orbs. Arthur was alarmed at how light the young warlock was while he carried him to Gaius; his manservant felt hardly heavier than a bag of grain in his muscular arms. He would have let Merlin walk, but feared that he may tumble over in his weakened state. As he entered Gaius' chambers, the icy look in the physician's eyes melted when he saw who Arthur was holding.

'Merlin!' he exclaimed, with a strange mixture of relief and worry, before leading the way to Merlin's chambers. Arthur laid the warlock down gently; he looked and felt awfully brittle.

Gaius left to fetch some food, which left Arthur and Gwen nothing to do but stare at their friend. He was shaking slightly, and Gwen pulled the blankets up to his chin. Merlin seemed unsettled by his being the centre of attention, and he examined the ceiling, a dull flush spreading down his thin face. After a few seconds he sighed softly, and turned to face two pairs of concerned eyes.

'I'm _fine_,' he insisted, the effect he wanted slightly spoilt by his croaky voice. Arthur snorted, and Gwen looked sceptical.

'You haven't been 'fine' for months now,' Arthur reminded his servant. 'I know I didn't exactly help the situation, but there's something else that's bothering you.'

Merlin nodded, looking resigned. 'When you got bitten by the Questing Beast I had to bargain with Nimueh.' He glanced up at his companions for their reactions, but their expressions were carefully neutral. 'Someone had to die for you to live. I bargained my life, but Nimueh took my…my mother's instead.' He heard a shocked gasp from Arthur, but Merlin closed his eyes and carried on. 'I went back to Nimueh to save her, but Gaius got there first. I thought he was dead so I killed Nimueh to save him. It turned out he was only unconscious, but it was too late for my mother…' He trailed off, lost in thought.

Gwen sniffed, tears sparkling on her long eyelashes. 'I'm so sorry, Merlin,' she murmured, hugging her friend tightly while Arthur stared on, at a loss for words.

The servant looked up at the prince, his clear blue orbs full of unshed tears. 'I'm sorry for being so distant, Arthur. None of this was your fault, but I partly blamed you for my mother's death after you got bitten and I can understand why you'd be angry-'

'Stop blabbering, Merlin. Of course I don't blame you for being upset; in fact I should thank you for saving my life.' He paused for a moment, staring intently at the young man. 'Thank you, and I am sorry about your mother.'

Feeling uncomfortable, the prince cleared his throat loudly and stood up, stretching. He did not like emotional displays; they made him feel awkward and unmanly.

'Well…I trust that you'll be back at work as soon as you're well; my chambers need cleaning, especially after _you _stayed in them.' Merlin smiled the cheeky grin that Arthur had missed.

'Of course, _sire_.'

**Well…I suppose that's it. Please comment if you liked this and want me to write another fic (suggestions are welcome), and also if you hated it-I want to know how to improve! I'm sorry there wasn't any romance between Arthur and Gwen-I was going to put it in, but the story seemed to centre around Merlin and Arthur's (non-slash) relationship more. If there is a next time, I'll try to plan out the story beforehand so I know what's going to happen! **


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